


Tight Spot

by Iced_Sympathy



Category: Mr. Robot (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Closet Sex, Fingering, M/M, Mind Games
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-12
Updated: 2015-08-12
Packaged: 2018-04-14 08:14:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4557318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iced_Sympathy/pseuds/Iced_Sympathy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tyrell Wellick follows Elliot to the bathroom. Of course he knows that Elliot framed Colby. But he doesn't need that to blackmail Elliot into doing whatever he wants to him. He only needs to read the panic on Elliot's face.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tight Spot

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [Tight Spot](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4704401) by [takethebluepill](https://archiveofourown.org/users/takethebluepill/pseuds/takethebluepill)



It would have been rude to vomit at Tyrell Wellick’s table in the executive lounge, CTO of Evil Corp or not. Seeing security come towards our table had gladly evacuated any nervous appetite I may have accrued. I only hoped that Tyrell assumed me to be the squeamish type, rather than the suspicious type. I always look this nervous, right? My face in the mirror didn’t look convinced. Or normal. Which would Wellick think was worse—morphine withdrawal, or covert betrayal?

The bathroom was small. It was empty. The farther away I was from him, the easier I could breathe. Well, unless he caught me in this conveniently located nook. Closets in bathrooms are the nearest security risk. Who would have thought?

Shit. I hear someone coming. My heart skips like it’s trying to escape this job—this closet—this bathroom—Wellick himself.

Speak of the devil. 

“Had to wash my face. Hard to breathe… here.” I forced the words out, hoping they are explanation enough. 

Wellick is urinating as I nearly have a panic attack. And then he tells me what I feared. That he knows I framed Terry Colby. A small sense of relief that he won’t report me sends my nerves skittering, but I wasn’t prepared for the wave of fear that caught me as his threat looms over my head. He knows my weakness and he’s willing to exploit it when it suits him. I shiver. I don’t think he notices. Or maybe I’m too aware of myself and not the ruthless, cold, terror that is the CTO. He gave me the creeps from the start. When he jokes that he’s not human, I almost believe him. The ice of his stare roots me to the spot. 

He takes my shoulders and I jump. How does he not know? How does he not know what I’ve done just in the closet? He knows what I’ve done before. He knows I hate Evil Corp. His hands leave my shoulders. He tells me to take care. My eyes flicker to the closet briefly. His saccharine smile dies as he follows my gaze. I exhale too loudly.

His hand comes up to touch my face. I flinch, but I stay rooted to the spot. His thumb runs over my cheekbone. There’s a glint in his eye as he does it. He knows that touching me makes me uncomfortable, just like he knew I framed Colby. Am I that easy to read? No, Wellick is hyper aware. I barely breathe.

“Your face is dry.” He says calmly.

I frown slightly. 

“Even if you dry skin off with a towel, it still feels a bit damp afterward.” He continues.

Where is he going with this? Oh. Ohhh. Shit. I told him that’s what I had been doing in here.

He looks to the closet again.

“Someone left the closet door open.” He says, amusement thinly coating… suspicion. 

I glance at the exit, hoping that he’ll leave. I have a job to finish.

Mercifully, he does. I rush to the closet again, twisting more wires, the tightness in my chest still choking me.

This time I don’t hear him come in. But I do see him as enters the closet and closes the door.

I hyperventilate. 

“It’s… It’s…” But I can’t think of anything. No excuse can get me out of this one. What else would he think?

He just smiles that deceptive smile. It makes him look child-like with innocence. 

He grabs my shoulders and shoves me against the tiny wall. This whole time I’d been hoping no one would come in, and now all I’m hoping is that someone does. Even Tyrell Wellick wouldn’t want to be caught in a bathroom closet with me, would he? For him, image is everything.

“So you’re not just here for a tour, Elliot? Is it pathetic that I was hoping you’d reconsidered my job offer?” He laughed slightly and squeezed my arms. I winced.

“No, you’ve got bigger plans, right?” His smile degrades into a snarl. Child-like to terrifying in less than a second. I’m still like a panicked deer. Would it be impolite to vomit on his tie?

“Extraordinary people usually do underneath all that human banality…” His eyes flicker to my lips as he says this. I close my eyes. There’s no way, right? Hubris won’t let him do it. 

His grip loosens and I squirm against the tiny wall, body language screaming for him to get away from me. Instead he leans into my space, grabs my face and kisses right underneath my jaw. I gasp, my hands white from gripping the wall behind me. I’m hoping it collapses.

Tyrell works himself up as he kisses my neck.

I’m still frozen like an animal, but when he presses a hand to my chest, my body screams at me to escape. I’m stuck here and he knows it. 

“What are you going to do, Elliot?” He says, breathless. “Do you really want to leave this closet after attempting to hack into my system? That might give me reason to turn you in.”

“You said you didn’t have proof…” I grit out desperately. 

“Not for Colby. But this?” He frowns and puts on his best scolding face, shakes his head slowly. He nods at the frayed wires. The hand on my chest is like an iron weight.

I’m silent. I don’t have any suggestions. I’m at the mercy of Evil Corp’s CTO.

Tyrell clicks his tongue. “Don’t be like that.”

I look up at him, pleading. 

“I’d rather you squirm than shut down.” 

I open my mouth to protest, but he instead slides his tongue inside. Somehow, what he said makes me want to fight less. Maybe it’ll be over with quicker if I submit. He kisses me viciously, and my head is braced against the confining walls of this closet, a boon and a curse. 

I remember my mother’s yells. I remember shutting down is the only way to make it stop. Just let her hit me. Let her scream and swear until it’s over.

His hand creeps under my shirt, skin to skin like electricity. He knows I hate being touched. Everything he does is deliberate. I brace myself. He notices this too, of course.

Tyrell Wellick smirks. 

“Maybe a little something different gets you going?”

I open my eyes just in time to see his open hand coming for my face. The slap shifts my head to the left. I gasp and start to breathe quickly. I’m shocked that he’d do it. I almost laugh that I’m more shocked at violence than him kissing me.

He violently unzips my sweater. I let him take it off me, subdued and wary. It falls to the floor noiselessly. I glance at the frayed wires. This is the job I was supposed to be doing. But I’ve failed. It’s over. Tyrell won’t let me leave now. Not without calling security. Or maybe he’ll play another sick game with me.

He pulls my t-shirt off as well. I let him, defeated. 

I curl in on myself, suddenly cold.

He grabs my arms and shoves them to the wall again. He’s getting fond of manhandling me, it seems. He presses himself against me slowly, letting me feel how aware I am of him violating my personal space.

His finely made suit jacket against my bare skin feels wrong. Like I’m the only one that’s vulnerable here. Which I suppose is entirely true.

He traces a gentle hand down my neck, down the center of my chest. He trails it down further past my belly button. I tense up further. I protest instinctively. But then I remember where I am and what I’ve just been caught doing. I remember who we are in this situation. Someone rich and powerful and a trapped rat. The way Evil Corp—Tyrell Wellick—would have it—will have it—forever.

He presses his hand against the slight bulge in my jeans. Maybe he’s not the only one fond of him manhandling me. I feel like a dog’s chew toy.

“What are you thinking just now?” Tyrell asks. “I can feel you growing under my touch.”

He presses just a bit harder, rubbing slightly. My toes curl in my shoes. I lean against the wall for purchase, stretching out like a sacrifice. I make a small, small sound.

“What is it about this that turns you on?” He presses, figuratively and literally. 

He leans into my neck and whispers obscenely in my ear. 

“Maybe you like feeling powerless.” His breath is warm. It makes me shiver anyway.

That wicked voice pours over me like urine.

He squeezes until I gasp, breathless.

“The things I could do to you here, Elliot…” He continues. I turn away from breath on my neck. Tyrell takes this as a gesture of submission and closes his mouth over my neck.

I grip onto his right arm. I weakly try to wrench it off my shoulder. It just looks like I’m petting him. Or maybe I’m just squirming enticingly. I’m not sure how it feels to have this much power over someone. He sucks harshly and I whimper. He withdraws only to speak into my ear again.

“What would you like me to do?” He asks, his voice sweetly honest. His right finger reaches between my legs and traces from the inner part of my scrotum up to my throbbing penis. Slowly, he unbuttons my jeans. I breathe shallowly, almost anticipating what he’ll do to me. What would I like him to do? That was the question. I’m not even thinking of entertaining an answer.  


I want him to hurt me. I want this to be over. I want him to play with me like I have no say. I want the peace of oblivion.

He unzips my jeans and slowly drags them down. I haven’t moved my arms, even though they are now free. I’m breathing heavily, my chest rising and falling like a dying bird.

I say nothing as he pulls my underwear down. My clothes pool at my feet. I’m naked in a bathroom closet where I tried to hack into Evil Corp, with none other than Tyrell Wellick.  


Tyrell smiles at me coyly. This is the face of evil.

“That didn’t take long.” He teases gently, trailing fingers up my thigh. I frown in anticipation as he finally touches my naked cock, tracing up and down, teasing the underside. I moan very quietly.  


He laughs softly and withdraws a bottle from the front of his underwear.

“A CTO must always be prepared.” He says seriously, uncapping the bottle. “And using a pocket would ruin the line of my suit.” 

He drizzles the clear fluid over his hand and without warning, before my gasp turns into a protest, he grasps my cock in his hand, massaging slowly. 

I moan in earnest. I writhe like the fucked up bastard that I am.

He leans in to my face as he strokes me and looks directly into my eyes. I could look away. I could close my eyes. But I look into the ice blue depths of evil instead. A rush of heat flows through me and I lean back, panting. 

He stops when I start to forget that I’m enjoying it, of course. My cock throbs, slick and ready. I almost ask him to keep going. Until I realize that he’s reaching between my legs again, a lubed finger tracing along the rim of my anus. 

“Don’t—don’t.” I say in hushed tones. He stares at me through hooded eyes, darkening as I continue to protest. 

“I don’t remember you having a choice in the matter.” He says coldly. 

I hear the door of the bathroom open. Tyrell’s head flicks toward the sound and he puts a slick finger to his own lips, a silent hush. 

My mouth opens, but my eyes dart to and fro. What could I say that would get me out of this? Especially when Tyrell Wellick was fully dressed and I was naked and next to frayed wires. Even if I wasn’t guilty, who was going to believe me over him?

Every threat I knew he was capable of loomed in his eyes as I heard the occupant climb into a bathroom stall. Maybe he’d be here for a while. Maybe he’d hear something.

Tyrell slowly, slowly grabs my arms again and quietly turns me to face the wall. I start to panic. Now what? Was he going to leave me here? Maybe I could escape if he did. 

Instead, I feel a slick finger barely touch me before Tyrell plunges it all the way inside me. His hand covers the yelp that escapes my mouth. I close my eyes, terrified. It was muffled, but could he have heard? I heard the stirrings of the man’s feet in his stall. 

“Mmmmm…” I moaned again as he moved his finger ever so slightly in and out. My fingers are white as they gripped the wall. Tyrell’s hand is strong and firm around my mouth. I wanted it on my cock again. Instead, he adds another finger inside me. I whine softly beneath the salty taste of his palm.

His breath stutters in my ear. So he was getting off on this. 

He pushed his fingers deep inside, angles them just right, watches me try so hard to make no noise as he massages my prostate.

I can only make the softest, steadiest stream of little moans as he finger fucks me. Even to me it sounded like I was pleading. I was covered in sweat, clinging to the wall for dear life.

He was going to fuck me in this tiny closet. I could hear him untucking himself from his pants and underwear. I could hear as the man in the stall carelessly opened the stall door and washed his hands quickly. My last hope died as I heard the bathroom door shut. And yet I sighed as a wave of relief meant I wouldn’t be discovered like this. At least not yet. Wellick was a sadistic bastard, after all. 

He released his hand from my mouth. I was panting, worn out already. His fingers were still inside me, teasingly wriggling a little. My cock ached to be touched. 

“I’m going to fuck you like the lowest prostitute, Elliot.” He hissed. 

I leaned my forehead against the wall, sweating and ready for him to make do on his promise. I deserved this. I deserved this for my arrogance, my pathetic desperation and ill preparation. I deserved this for the morphine withdrawals. I deserved this because I was everything my mother said I was. Worse than worthless. 

Tyrell lined his cock up at my entrance. I was fully compliant.

“You like this.” He laughed, amused. “You really don’t care what I’m doing to you right now.”

I stood there, still. I didn’t contradict him.

“I could do anything I wanted and you’d let me.”

That was certainly true as he grasped my hips and slowly, slowly, pressed inside me. 

I groaned, winced, tried to get away subtly. He held my hips hard, pressing into the bone.

Even Tyrell let out a little moan when he was inside.

He withdrew and I gasped in pain, shivering with the intensity of it.

He thrust back in and I cried out.

“Tell me why you’re letting me do this, Elliot.” He said my name viciously, fucking me like he promised. He was relentless, hard and fast in his brutality. I whined against the wall, my own private hell. At least I could no longer see his face. Instead, it was just the heavy presence of his body behind me. Strong and lean, he thrust without abandon.

“Tell me or you go down right now.” He threatened, grabbing my cock like a promise.

I groaned in misery, letting him fuck me into submission. Oblivion was bliss.

“I deserve it.” I mumbled, the steady thump and heavy panting of our copulation nearly drowned it out.

“You what?” He coaxed, breathing hard, stopping for only a moment.

He waited patiently as I stared at the wall. I had accepted defeat a while ago, anyway.

“I deserve it.”

He grabbed my cock and stroked. Then he resumed fucking an Elliot-shaped groove in the wall until I came, sobbing.

He left me in the fetal position on a pile of my clothes. He left the wires untouched. Maybe he couldn’t care less about them. He smirked, straightening his tie. A quick push of his hand through his sweaty hair seemed to satisfy him. 

“I didn’t really think this through. Bathrooms are usually synonymous with showers.” He said good-naturedly, still a little out of breath.

“Until next time, Elliot.” He paced elegantly out of the closet, closing the door behind him.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm dying to know what you think. ;)


End file.
